


Hoard

by orphan_account



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Dragons, M/M, Multi, Unreliable Narrator
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-01
Updated: 2016-12-01
Packaged: 2018-09-03 13:04:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,784
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8715046
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: No one really remembers when the dragons came. History books are vague and all point to different eras and locations where the first suspected Dragonheld popped up. Ancient warriors and kings, saints and queens, the rich, the smart, those who guided human history and development; a great many were supposed to be Dragonheld, or at least had claimed to be so.Supposedly it made a person special if a dragon decided to take them as a host. Supposedly it meant great things for that person, that they were ‘special’. Dragons lived for riches, gold and precious metals, sparkling jewels, the finest things in life and so of course one who held a dragon must be able to acquire those things. That was just how it worked, had always worked....Usually





	

**Author's Note:**

> For Shklance Week Day 1, Reunion/Separation

No one really remembers when the dragons came. History books are vague and all point to different eras and locations where the first suspected Dragonheld popped up. Ancient warriors and kings, saints and queens, the rich, the smart, those who guided human history and development; a great many were supposed to be Dragonheld, or at least had claimed to be so.

Supposedly it made a person special if a dragon decided to take them as a host. Supposedly it meant great things for that person, that they were ‘special’. Dragons lived for riches, gold and precious metals, sparkling jewels, the finest things in life and so of course one who held a dragon must be able to acquire those things. That was just how it worked, had always worked. 

...usually worked. 

While most Dragonheld were amazing people, better than those around them by virtue of nurturing a dragon with their heart, there were some that went...wrong. Dragons were bigger than life, dwarfed cars when they were fully grown, and they were demanding. Greedy. Wild. Most hosts could take it and held on to what made them human, never let the dragon overwhelm and change them. that's why there dragon had chosen them, because they could sense that strength, but sometimes the dragon got it wrong. Or sometimes circumstances wore a person down, made them lose themselves. 

Those people would slowly fall apart, humanity consumed by the thing inside of them, until they were mad dragons on human skin. They became feral, insane, hoarding things and even people, rampaging for the slightest of reasons until finally they were put down.

It was rare but it was terrifying. 

And yet not so terrifying that all small children and their parents didn't hope a dragon would find them and curl around their hearts. Even if a rare few broke was it not worth it to be special? To be better? To have fame and fortune practically throw themselves at your feet, especially in this Modern Era where it took little more than a flash of the living dragon under a person's skin to make people clamour for their attention. 

There were even shows that followed Dragonheld of all ages, watched their accomplishments and development, and so the standard of good things coming to those who carried dragons continued. They were blessed, or so people said. 

Shiro was of the opinion that the people who could house dragons were just...empty. Most people didn’t have the space inside of them, in their hearts and souls, to keep and nurture a dragon. They needed that space for their own wants, dreams, and loves but the people who attracted dragons, who opened themselves up and let them crawl inside didn’t have any use for that space. They weren’t like everyone else, that much was true, and that made them the perfect vessels for the selfish, greedy, demanding things that slithered inside. 

Shiro found his dragon one dark foggy morning when he was taking his childhood dog for a walk. They were passing a neighbor's house when he heard a soft noise from one of the hedges. His first thought was cat but, when he heard it again, he knew that wasn’t right. It was a mewl mixed with a hiss, low and trembling. He went towards it, a strange pull behind his bellybutton forcing him closer, and bent down to peer into the bushes. 

The thing that stared back was tiny, like a kitten, all black on top with a pale purple underbelly, flickering before Shiro’s eyes, there but not really there, thin body and tiny wings curling and weaving like smoke. It’s scales glittered and it’s slitted eyes, one blue and one red, looked up at him with an almost...comforting sort of familiarity. It flicked it’s tongue out, forked and rough as it passed over it’s fingers, then made the noise again. Questioning, plaintive, wanting.  

So he picked it up and let it in. That’s what you were supposed to do when you meet a dragon after all and if you didn’t...well, it wasn’t as if anyone ever got a second chance. Refusing a dragon if you were selected was just...not something that people did. 

Certainly not Shiro, who was all of ten and spent his days in academic clubs, at sports practices, at music lessons, at recitals and games and whatever else his parents could think of in the pursuit of being the best. His mother was a pilot, one of the best to come out of the Garrison, turned instructor and his father a scientist and they had expectations of him and demanded he live up to them. 

So he did. 

Needle sharp claws dug into his chest as the dragon somehow phased right through his clothes, and then it slithered into him, forcing it’s narrow snout and had, with it’s three little boney nubs along the crown, into him. It hurt, badly, burned and ached under his skin and then inside as it pushed past his ribs and started to circle his heart. He couldn't breath, lacking the space for his lungs to fill and maybe bleeding inside as those claws shifted and moved, pressing into tissue and bone as they found the spaces they would anchor into. 

When he coughed it was wet and when, finally, there was nothing left to take in, he felt something loose and rattling. He wobbled home, dog whining the entire way, and nearly collapsed in the entry way. When his parents found him they didn’t ask how he was, if he was okay, or anything like that. They scooped him up, tears in their eyes, and ran their fingers over the dragon on his skin, and proclaimed they’d known all along that he was special. 

There were tests, to assess his ‘potential’, special classes, special schools, and events, new ‘approved’ friends that also held dragons and could ‘take him places’, and of course his parents pushed him even harder, knowing he could take it. He was Dragonheld after all and that meant that he was supposed to do more than others. He accepted this, like he’d accepted their expectations before. 

On his skin his dragon’s head sat over his heart, the body stretching over his chest, and the tail coiling around his neck. Under his skin he felt her growing, stretching, filling the odd empty space that had always existed inside of Shiro, knew she was there even if xrays never showed her and other Dragonheld looked at him oddly when he described how he could feel her coiling, squeezing, shifting inside of him. He named her Meg, in honor of his favorite book, and she was a constant presence inside of him, whispering softly. She didn’t always like everything, hated that he was taught ‘control’ and chain her inside, to never let her out, but she loved him fiercely.    

She moved around sometimes, lifting her head to yawn and lick his cheek in the mornings, slipped low around his thigh when he needed to change in front of others, lended him her smoke to huff out when he was annoyed, and laughed softly when he rolled his eyes behind his parents back. 

The Garrison wasn’t something he wanted, really. He was a good pilot of course, very good, but he did it because his mother had done it. He took an interest in science and exploration because his father had done it. Shiro didn’t know how to want things like that on his own, though he certainly liked glittering things, lingered outside of jewelry stores, found anything that caught the light could draw his attention. And the sky, oh how he watched the sky. There was a longing there, something that rose up and pushed at his skin, tried to burst out of his body, that filled his mind and lungs with cool smoke. 

But that was all Meg, giving that emptiness something. Filling up his soul, making him more of a person and more of a dragon all at once. 

So no, Shiro didn’t want things all on his own. 

Not until Keith anyway. 

There were other Dragonheld at the Garrison, quite a few when you considered what a tiny part of the population they were, and they mostly kept to their own group while other, normal, people stared from the outside in. Shiro, however, kept to himself by people available to everyone. He helped anyone who asked, spent his time with whoever would have him, smiled often, and he did it because it kept him away from the other Dragonheld. People assumed he was just that friendly, beyond the petty social divide, that he was some sort of saint with a big heart, instead of seeing that he just had some territory issues. 

No one but him knew that Meg squeezed his heart too tightly for it to fit anyone else. 

But then Keith. Keith came to the Garrison, one of the scholarship kids, wearing his dragon on his skin bigger and brighter than anyone Shiro had ever seen. It stretched down his back, body spiraling around his spine, wings overlapping his shoulder blades, front claws digging into his collarbone, long graceful neck and head resting on Keith’s heart, and tail trailing over his hip bone. It was glowing embers and rust, ruby scales and flowing lava between them, and he ran hot, spat fire when he was angry (which was often) and breathed smoke near constantly. 

Everyone stayed away from Keith. It was obvious to anyone who looked that he was too much of the dragon and not enough of a person. He didn’t have control like everyone else was taught to have, didn’t have it chained and docile. His dragon was eating him up inside, hollowing him out, turning him into a monster that would need to be put down one day and everyone knew it. 

Shiro wanted him like Meg wanted jewels, raw meat, like she wanted to be let out to fly. 

More maybe. 

Meg sighed loudly, disappointed in his taste. Fire wryven, far beneath a celestial dragon like herself. Big and bulky instead of long and lean and ugh, it was just shameful. She had raised him better, hadn’t she? 

Keith only smiled for Shiro, small secretive ones when he caught him staring, sharper ones combined with a heat tilt and pushing his hair away from his neck, showing more of his dragon, when he knew Shiro was nearby. Full on, teeth bared and eyes gleaming when Shiro finally introduced himself. 

Meg said he smiled like a dragon who’d just caught a tasty meal.

Shiro was fine with that. 

Meg came around. 

Keith brought them gifts, shiny things he picked up when he vanished at night or on the weekends, shared his food, brought him barely cooked meat, and stroked Meg often. ...sometimes in public. It drew attention because, for one, people already thought it strange that Shiro’s dragon was as big and bold as it was, where most people had small palm sized marks above their heart. Beyond that Shiro didn’t let people touch him and, even if he did, everyone knew Meg fled from being seen. And yet for Keith she stayed put, shivering on and under Shiro’s skin. Keith always smiled wider after this and always looked very much like a dragon surveying his riches when he looked at Shiro.

People told him to stay away, that he was acting differently, but Shiro couldn’t hear them. 

Keith also took them flying. 

\---

Shiro was wary when Keith showed up outside the window of his dorm room one night, beckoning him down, then took him out on a bike Shiro was fairly certain he’d stolen (”Prove it.” Keith said, tossing him a smirk) out into the desert. And there, under the star filled skin Keith showed him his dragon. It rose up from his body like a flame, crackled and twisted as it climbed free of Keith’s form. The ground shook when it’s paws hit the hard packed earth and the sky cracked when it’s wings spread. The tail came last, coiling around Keith like a snake as the dragon yawned. 

It was huge, drowned Keith in it’s shadow, and while it was a large version of the mark it was almost...so much more than that. Living, breathing, ruby scales seeming to shift and move like cracked jewels floating on lava, rust colored underbelly glowing with the fire inside it’s gut, eyes like coals. It’s tail was spike and it’s claws looked like they could rip through steel. It’s wings were tall, spread out and cast a shadow that seems to stretch forever, thick ‘webbing’ stretched between strong bone. 

It was terrifying and beautiful.

It licked Keith, nearly unbalancing him and making his windblown hair stand on end. 

Meg’s envy burned like poison in Shiro. 

“Your turn.” Keith laughed (was this the first time he’d heard Keith laugh?) as he tried to push his dragon’s snout, easily bigger than he was, away from him. Shiro blinked.

“I can’t do that.” He wasn’t supposed to do that. You never let the dragon out, that was the whole point of the training. if you let them out then they could take over or worse, leave.

Keith stared at him like he was questioning his intelligence. “You’ve never let it out?” 

“I. Uh.” Shiro said, feeling very small and very edible as Keith’s dragon turned golden eyes onto him. “No. Everyone always told me not to let her out.” 

Keith rolled his eyes then moved back to him and reached out. His hands were warm as they settled on either side of his face. His lips were even warmer, fitting against Shiro’s easily. The air that flowed between them was wet and hot. Shiro wasn’t new to kissing, other Dragonheld had been very clear with their interest in him and on a few occasions he’d been willing to try it out, but it had never felt...right. Dragons sniping at each other, roaring under their skin and showing their teeth, always made it very clear that it just wouldn’t work.

Keith felt right. He tasted like smoke, was solid and hot as he pushed against Shiro and his arms circled his neck to bring their closer still, melding their bodies together. Between one breath and the next they went from sharing air to Keith licking into his mouth, tongues twining together. 

When Keith pulled back to let him breathe he could feel the smile on Keith’s lips. “Let her out.”

Meg stretched inside of him, grew and grew until he felt like he was going to burst from lack of space inside of him. And then she was free, slipping between his ribs and falling away like a whisper. She curled around them, black scales glittering under the stars and cool to the touch as she brushed past him. Her wings were feathered, each with a span like the length of a car, stirring up the wind as they stretched and flared out. 

She was long, like a snake with legs and her body twisted and looped, rising up like small sand dunes in the darkness, and her body was thick and strong. He could feel her laughter and, more than that, her pleasure at finally being unleashed. Unchained. 

Keith laughed again then stepped away, grabbing Shiro’s hand, and dragging him towards his dragon. “Jay, we’re going for a ride.” 

And they did, Shiro sitting in front of Keith with strong arms around his waist. They raced through the darkness, under the stars and alongside the clouds, with Meg at their side. It was...Shiro didn’t have the words to describe it. It made his heart swell and his breath catch, made him warm down to his core. Meg loved the sky, loved flying, wanted to go higher and higher, to see more, and Shiro felt that, filling up the hollow place inside of him that Meg usually sat in. 

He loved it too. With her or for her or maybe on his own. 

After they laid on the sand, their dragons curled around them, providing warmth against the chill of the night. Keith laid between his legs, kissed him and bit him, scratched lines into his skin and showed him some other new things. 

The proper dragon way, or so Keith breathily whispered in his ear.  

And Shiro kind of loved that too. 

\---

It seemed right to float more towards Keith, to study with him, work on sims together, sneak out at night to fly or to watch the stars or...other things. Shiro was a particular fan of the ‘other thing’, even if it involved being subject to Meg’s amused eye rolling and general disgust at human mating habits. 

She sat better under his skin. Happier. Folded into him easier, lended him more of herself to him and he accepted it readily. Some of it was fun, like breathing out mist and doing a little better in his physical training. He couldn’t understand why people were so eager to have dragons and then denied themselves so much of them, kept them under lock and key, because once he let Meg out there was no going back to keeping her contained. 

He didn’t want to and he found he didn’t want to be around other Dragonheld who were content to live that way. 

Didn’t need to with Keith at his side which was something he intended to keep doing. 

\---

“You’re staring at the new recruit again.” Shiro said, glaring over his book at Keith. Who smiled at him lazily and blinked once, showing slitted eyes, and then again with normal rounded pupils. Shiro stared back, unimpressed. “What is it?”

Keith glanced back across the mess hall to the recruit in question. A first year, cargo class, Lance something or other. Shiro didn’t care much; he wasn’t Keith so there wasn’t much interesting about him in his view. Except that Keith was always staring at him. Staring hard, like he was trying to read him. Shiro didn’t want to care about that either but he did, like a knife peeling back his skin and exposing a lot of darker thoughts he wished weren’t there. It was like a raw nerve, poked at every time he saw Keith glancing somewhere else. 

“You don’t see it?” Keith asked, head tilting to the side. 

“See what?” 

Keith paused, looked like he was about to say something profound as he met Shiro’s eyes. “There’s something about him.” 

“I’ll kill him.” Shiro blurted. Keith leaned closer as some of the people at their table shifted away, laughter in his voice. 

“Yeah?” 

“And you.” And he meant it, felt the conviction down in his bones, felt it echoed by Meg. Keith was theirs. Dragons loved treasure, surrounded themselves with it, and Keith...Keith was that for him. “You’re mine.” 

“No. You’re mine. My dragon is bigger but we can fight about it if you want.” Keith licked his lips, eyes gleaming. Shiro grinned back and Meg rumbled inside of him, practically begging to be released to fight. That’s what they did when they disagreed, fought it out with teeth and nails, like dragons would, and the winner got their way while the other had to submit and show their belly and neck. 

Keith usually won. 

Meg loved it anyway and so did Shiro. 

“Anyway, Kerberos. Tell me more.” 

\---

Kerberos went all wrong. Taken prisoner. Thrown into the arena. Lost the Holts. Fell apart in spurts, did things that made his skin crawl, was stripped away layer by layer. Meg retreated further into him to hide herself away (he couldn’t let the Galra have her, couldn’t let them know about her because she was all he had and they would take her away like they did everything else) and, as he slipped away she wedged into the cracks to keep him whole. 

He bled and she healed his wounds faster. She lended him her bloodlust when he needed it, helped him kill and perform on Galra command. When they took his arm she helped him adapt, took the pain away and taught him to use it. She gave him patience; dragons were long lived and so were their hosts. They could wait and learn, find the right opportunity to strike. 

He didn’t remember his escape except in flashes. Destroyed droids, blood in his mouth and under his nails, tearing things apart but it was barely there, echoes like everything else had become echoes. Nothing felt real again until he woke up in a small shack somewhere, Keith hovering over him. 

\---

“It’s good to have you back.” Keith said. He leaned into him, touched him, and Shiro’s hands shook because it was...it was real. He was back. For now, for the moment, until he could figure out the thoughts in his head. 

“It’s good to be back.” He said sincerely, smiling down at Keith. Then, glancing over his shoulder at the three faces watching them from the window, sighed. They’d been looking at him like he was some kind of monster, like he was one of the ones who’d been eaten up inside by the dragon inside. He understood why; he’d seen himself for approximately three seconds in a mirror and saw that his eyes were stormy, full of lightning.

And that wasn’t the only thing that had changed. 

“I see it now.” 

It being the dragon sleeping in Lance. It was small, too small, malnourished, a tiny blue thing with shriveled wings and withered body, curled up under his heart. Barely alive and, he was sure, asleep because if it was awake it would have already died. Was going to die eventually anyone and take its host along for the ride. He’d never seen anything like it. Wasn’t sure how he was seeing it at all except that...he was different now. 

More like Keith. 

More dragon. 

Meg was suspiciously silent. 

“I don’t think he knows she’s there.” Keith said, lips turning up into a dry smile. His teeth were sharper than Shiro remembered. “I think I can wake her up, pull her out of him.”

Shiro’s eyes narrowed and the three faces in the window vanished hastily. “Like how you pulled Meg out of me?” 

Keith’s smile grew. “Maybe.” 

Shiro considered that, flexing the fingers on his metal hand as he turned back to the horizon. There was anger, for a moment, the urge to bare his teeth and fight for his hoard. Keith's fingers tangled around his own, squeezing. 

"Both. Not one or the other."

Shiro breathed out then nodded. Both, Meg whispered, meant more treasure and she always wanted more. “Okay.” 

**Author's Note:**

> I should really stress that Shiro is an unreliable narrator. Meg has...altered him more than he thinks.


End file.
